


The Postcards

by Small_Hobbit



Series: Yet Another Twelve Days of Christmas [10]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28265463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: Dr Watson has received an interesting box in the post.  One which it would be best not left lying around.
Series: Yet Another Twelve Days of Christmas [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068605
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	The Postcards

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whocares](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whocares/gifts).



“Good morning, Dr Watson,” Bessie, the maid, said, entering our rooms. “The postman’s just delivered this parcel for you. Mrs Hudson said to bring it up and remind you to be careful opening it.”

I thanked Bessie and assured her I would take the usual precautions. The parcel was wrapped in plain brown paper, tied up with string, so it could, indeed, have been anything. Fortunately, a quick glance at the name and the address, stated simply as 133 Cheapside, was sufficient to tell me all I needed to know.

Nevertheless, I was extremely circumspect when unwrapping the parcel, for I did not want either Mrs Hudson or Bessie to come in while I was inspecting the contents. Inside the paper was a cardboard box and inside the box were a selection of postcards. I should perhaps add that these postcards were not of views of scenery or famous monuments, but of a more artistic nature.

I had just begun to place the postcards on the table when I heard a shout from somewhere outside, which was followed shortly afterwards by a scream. I hurried to the window and, as soon as I saw what had happened, I grabbed my medical bag and ran down the stairs.

It was not until I returned some time later, having rendered assistance to as many of the injured as I could, that I remembered the postcards which I had left on the table. My alarm was considerable, because I knew that someone would have been up to clean the room during my absence. It was possible that Holmes had returned and had the sense to move them, but that could not be guaranteed.

I hurried up the stairs and into our rooms, glancing instantly at the table. The wrapping paper was still there, but the box and the loose postcards were gone.

Holmes was in the room, so I asked him, rather breathlessly, “The box … on the table. Have you?”

“I’ve just returned myself,” Holmes replied.

“Oh!”

Holmes surveyed the room. “Either Mrs Hudson or Bessie has been in while we were out. Perhaps one of them has moved the box.”

I sincerely hoped not. But if that was the case it would not be long before our landlady re-appeared. Holmes went into his bedroom and I was just wondering in a rather cowardly way whether I could abandon him to Mrs Hudson’s ire, when a voice said, “The box is under the sideboard. I suggest you move it before they do a full clean in here.”

I bent down and retrieved the box, lifting the lid to check the contents when I had put it on the table.

The Ferret hopped onto the table too and looked inside. “Not bad I suppose.”

“Where are the rest?” I asked anxiously.

“I shoved them into your book, so be careful when you open it. I managed to get the lid on the box before I pushed it onto the floor and then under the sideboard. But teeth and paws aren’t ideal for putting postcards into boxes.”

“I’m very grateful to you,” I said.

“I admire your taste,” the Ferret continued. “Not really my thing, of course, but still.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t take them into your hole.”

“What, and risk them being found? You may not want Bessie and Mrs Hudson to find them, but Mouselet would no doubt drool over one or two and, believe me, Aemelia can be as formidable as Mrs Hudson.”

I laughed. “I thought Mouselet would only drool over Hopkins.”

“You don’t mean…”

“Certainly not!”

At that moment Holmes came back out of his room. “What are you two discussing?” he asked.

“Nothing much,” I replied. I picked up the box and my book in order to take them to my own room. “Coming, Ferret?” I asked.

He nodded and trotted after me.


End file.
